


Losing Her Head

by monimala



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gap Filler, I'm Going to Hell, So Wrong It's Right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 20:59:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2362013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monimala/pseuds/monimala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ficlet based off of the season two premiere. I have no regrets. Sorry not sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Losing Her Head

The planes of his chest ripple under her palms. She can barely span the breadth of his wide shoulders. But she clings to them like a buoy in a storm-tossed sea as he moves over her, as his beautiful, blunt fingers work their wickedness between her thighs. It’s been so long. Too long. Centuries since she’s been so cherished, so loved, so pleasured. She’s restless, needy, whimpering his name.

It tears from her in a ragged sigh. “Ichabod.”

All at once his touch stills. His whole body stills, tension laced through every sinew and every bone.

And she remembers that her husband’s hands are a scholar’s hands, not a warrior’s. That his body is whipcord-lean. That when they made love, he was never so silent as he is in this moment.

_Abraham._

_No, the thing that once was Abraham._

_This is a reality that can’t be borne. An anathema. An abomination. A sin._

Katrina knows what she will see when she opens her eyes. Perhaps that is why she keeps them screwed tightly shut. Perhaps that is why the pounding of her heart, the harsh crash of her own breaths in her ears, drowns out the accursed quiet. Her traitorous thighs are still spread, her hips still canting upward. She still wants. She still needs. And when she speaks again it is only to say “please.” _Please finish this. Finish me._

Her nails dig into the blades of his back. She presses her mouth to his collarbone to stifle her frustration and her shame. His fingers crook inside her. Three of them, pulling her into the abyss.

Is it the same yawning darkness that lives where his face used to be?

She does not know.

All she knows is that damnation has never been so total, so consuming, so sweet.

 

 

\--end--

 

September 26, 2014

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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